Dragons Aren't Real!
by Miriku-'-'-Yami no Hikari
Summary: Izayah Gomez is just your average girl. She's smart. She's athletic. She's pretty. And she DOESN'T beleive in dragons. But all that is about to change... EragonxOC
1. The Dragon

**Yess! I can't beleive you can actually post Eragon fanfics! This is _so_ cool!**

**Disclaimer Dude: Christopher Paolini owns Eragon and Eldest. Miriku owns this story, any characters you don't recognize, and a copy of each book.

* * *

Chapter One  
The Dragon**

"Dragons aren't real."

Kia Ameida gasped, clutching the book she had been reading—Eragon—to her chest. Kia was sixteen, with deeply tanned skin and soft, almond-shaped brown eyes. Her black hair was straight and smooth, and hung to her waist. At the moment, she was wearing a white, tight-fitting T-shirt and a blue skirt. She had a slight problem with her brain—she acted a few years younger than she was.

"How can you say such a thing, Izayah?" she asked in an injured tone.

Izayah Gomez rolled her eyes. She was also sixteen, with long, wavy brown hair that reached her waist, and bright sapphire eyes flecked with gold. Her attitude was one of a skeptic—she never believed what she couldn't see. This made it strange that she enjoyed reading fiction and fantasy stories. At the moment, she was wearing a loose, light blue T-shirt and jeans.

She was the one who had recommended Eragon to Kia—and now, she was having second thoughts. Now the girl was babbling non-stop about how she wanted to be a dragon rider, and join the Varden so that she could help Eragon stop Galbatorix.

"Look, Kia—Eragon is a _story._ It's _not real._ There's no such place as Alagaësia. There's no such person as Eragon, or Murtagh, or Arya, or any of them."

She leaned forward to emphasize her point. "There. Are. No. Dragons."

Kia just stared at her for a moment. "Fine. If you won't believe in them, then I'll do it myself." And she re-buried herself in the book.

Izayah sighed. It was impossible to talk to Kia when she made up her mind. "Fine, go ahead and believe." She glanced at her watch. "It's one fifteen—I'd better go."

She stood up, leaving Kia at the library table, immersed in her book. She exited the library, and headed off down the street.

_That would be impossible,_ she laughed to herself. _Eragon? Real?_

Looking around, Izayah decided to take a shortcut through the park. As she walked, she let her mind drift.

It sure would be amazing, though—if Eragon were real. If she could really see a dragon.

_Get a hold of yourself, Izayah! Eragon is a fictional work by a man named Christopher Paolini! There's no **way** it could be true!_

But still…

Suddenly, a glimmer caught Izayah's eye. She stopped, and looked around. Nothing. She caught a shimmer from under a bush and, curiosity taking over, knelt down and burrowed through the brush.

Before her rested an oblong white stone, shimmering faintly in the dim light that reached it through the leaves of the bush. Its surface was flawless, with veins of silver tracing through it. It looked about a foot long.

Something seemed to draw her to it. There was a sense of familiarity about it that was so deep, it felt as if it had been there forever.

_Why does this seem familiar?_ Izayah thought. She reached out and touched it.

The surface of the stone was smooth and cool, like hardened silk. Her fingers slipped right off of it. Curious about its weight, Izaya picked it up.

Suddenly, the world swirled around her. A howling wind blew her off her feet, and she was flung into a swirling vortex of muted color. And then—she passed out.

**OooO**

"Akh Gûnteraz dorzada! What _is_ it?"

"It looks like a girl—but she must be foreign."

"_Very_ foreign—just look at her clothes! Where would you find such outlandish fabric as this?"

"I don't know."

"Where did you find her?"

"There was a loud noise, and she just appeared—along with that stone. What do you think we should do with her?"

"Do? What we _do_ is we wait until she wakes up. Then we'll ask her a few questions."

The two voices were a blur in Izayah's mind. She barely heard them. All she could hear was a buzzing in her head, compliments of whatever had happened to her.

She stirred, and tried to sit up, but felt a strong but small hand on her shoulder. "Stay," a rough voice commanded. "Open your eyes, if you must, but don't move.

Izayah sank back onto the soft pallet she had been resting on, and opened her eyes. She was in a small room, and standing above her were two very short men. One's hair and beard were black, and he wore a sweat-stained shirt and pair of pants made out of rough linen. The second's hair and beard were reddish-brown, and he wore a much finer shirt of red silk and black pants.

"It's a good thing you're awake," the one with reddish-brown hair growled. "We've got some questions for you. What's your name?"

Izayah quailed under the fierce glares the two were giving her. "I-Izayah."

"How did you get here?"

"I don't know."

The one with black hair growled. "Liar. It was magic that brought you here—the question is, _whose?_"

"I don't _know!_" Izayah wailed. "I don't even know where I _am!_"

The two diminutive men stared at her, shock written across their faces. "This could be a problem," the one with black hair murmured. He looked at Izayah. "I'm Fredric—and this is Orik."

For some reason, Izayah thought she ought to recognize those names—but her mind was still in a blur.

Suddenly, she spotted the white stone in the corner. "That's my stone," she said hesitantly, pointing at it. "May I have it back?"

Orik scrutinized her. "How do you know it's yours?"

"Because I found it!" she retorted.

Fredric suddenly motioned for them to be quiet. "Do you hear that? Listen."

The three of them fell quiet. There was nothing for a moment—and then, a faint sort of tapping sound reached their ears.

Orik and Fredric looked at each other, amazement on their faces, and then, as one, they looked at the stone.

It was rocking back and forth now, and the tapping was accelerating. Izayah stared at it, shock written across her face. She remembered where she knew those names—from the book.

Eragon.

The two men in front of her weren't men at all—but dwarves. Two of the main characters from the book.

And that stone…

With a sharp, ear-splitting crack, the stone burst into fragments. All three of them jumped as a small creature with a strangely angled body tumbled out with a startled squeak.

Izayah gaped. Sitting there in the corner of the room, licking the membrane off its pure white scales, was—

"Akh Gûnteraz dorzada!" Orik breathed in amazement. "A dragon!"

The tiny dragon looked up, and let out a little squeak. It padded over to Izayah, who was still frozen with shock, and bumped its head against her arm.

"Go on, stranger," Fredric murmured. "Touch it."

Slowly and tentatively, Izayah held up her hand. She reached out, and touched the dragon on the forehead.

Ice seemed to run up her arm, through her very body, leaving searing pain in its wake. Izayah fell back with a cry, biting back an oath. Something seamed to be screaming inside her head—she tried to scream too, but she couldn't move a muscle—

And then it was gone. Warmth slowly spread through her body. She sat up, shivering, and stared at the dragon. It was looking at her, eyes bright with curiosity.

She felt a light touch on her mind, full of the same emotion.

"Argetlam!" Fredric suddenly exclaimed. "Look at her hand!"

Amazed and confused, Izayah held up her right hand—the hand she'd touched the dragon with. A silvery white oval had been burned onto it. The skin itched, as if she'd just been bitten by a mosquito.

Fredric slowly shook his head. "Amazing!" he murmured.

Orik was the first to recover. "Get up and follow me," he snapped at Izayah. "Bring the dragon."

Izayah looked at the little dragon, who was still watching her. It touched her mind, and she got the impression of hunger.

"I think it's hungry," she said timidly.

Orik waved his hand dismissively. "That can wait. I need to take you somewhere."

Izayah stood up, feeling strangely light-headed. The dragon rose to its feet and jumped into her arms. The pain didn't come again, which she was thankful for. She didn't pay attention to where she was being led—her mind was in a big whirl.

Somehow, she was _in_ Alagaësia. She was _inside_ the book. She had just met two of the most prominent characters—Fredric the training master and Orik, Eragon's friend—and she was holding a dragon.

The little white dragon bumped its head against her chest, and she began to stroke its head. It made a strange humming noise in the back of its throat, laying back its ears.

"Wait here," Orik commanded. He went through a door and out of sight.

Izayah stood there for who knows how long, running her fingers along the dragon's pearly white scales. She felt that touch on her mind again, full of curiosity, and allowed it to explore a little.

Orik peered out the door. "Come in."

She took a tentative step into the room, and looked around, wonder and shock growing on her face.

At a long table in the middle of the room sat four people—and a dragon.

The dragon was easily almost twice Izayah's height, even when lying down, as it was now. Its scales were sapphire blue. Izayah reluctantly drew her attention away from the other dragon to study the people at the table.

The first was a woman who had dark skin and hair, and wore a red silk dress trimmed with gold. Her eyes were warm, but they had a hardness to them that only great stress could bring.

_That must be Nasuada,_ Izayah thought. Strangely, the leader of the Varden looked exactly how she had imagined her.

The second was another woman, with pale skin and raven hair. She wore a long white dress that reached her ankles, and cut off at her wrists. Her features were aquiline, and her ears slanted upward to a point. Once again, Arya looked exactly like Izayah had imagined she would.

The third person at the table was a blocky man wearing a blue silk shirt and black pants. His hair and short beard were ruddy brown, and his hard brown eyes made it known that you did _not_ want to cross him. Izayah decided that this must be Roran.

And then, she looked at the fourth person. The one who sat farthest from her; the one who was staring at her with the greatest intensity; the one who had the blue dragon's head resting near his elbow.

He wore a white silk shirt, and pants similar to Roran's. His blue eyes were tilted upward slightly at the corners, and his face was aquiline—though not so much as Arya's. Overall, he gave the impression of being not quite human—but not quite elven.

There was no doubt in Izayah's mind who it was, especially since there was only one blue dragon—and that dragon was Saphira.

It was Eragon.

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**Just a little pronunciation guide, which I'll have at the end of chapters with new words or names or whatever;**

**Izayah Gomez: Ee-ZI-yah GO-mez  
Kia Ameida: KEE-yah Ah-mey-EE-da**

**Review, please!**


	2. A Friend

**Chapter two! Hoorah!

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Chapter Two  
A Friend **

Izayah stared at Eragon. Even in all her imaginings, he never looked this—well, _handsome_. She looked at the floor, hiding the blush that was creeping up her neck.

"Orik tells us that your name is I-Izayah?"

Izayah nearly grinned at how Nasuada stumbled over the name. No one had ever been able to pronounce it right on their first try. "Yes. That's my name."

"What are we going to do with her, Nasuada?" Orik asked, fingers twitching towards the axe bound around his waist. Izayah started—she hadn't noticed it before.

"I say we ask her some questions," Roran said. Izayah didn't like the tone in his voice—his 'questioning' sounded more like an interrogation.

Nasuada glanced disapprovingly at him. "No, Roran."

"But she might be working for Galbatorix!"

Suddenly, the dragon in Izayah's arms let out a loud keen, repeatedly bumping its head against her chest.

Izayah blushed as all five people in the room stared at it, as if they hadn't seen it when she first walked in. "It's hungry," she explained quickly. "I tried to tell Orik, but he said that I should follow him."

Arya scrutinized her. "But is it _your_ dragon?"

"It hatched in front of her," Orik explained. He looked at Izayah. "Show them your palm."

Tentatively, Izayah held up her right hand. Arya's eyes widened. "The gedwëy ignasia!" she breathed.

With a low growl, Saphira rose to her feet and slinked up to Izayah. She quailed under the dragon's stare—the blue dragon was easily three times her height.

The little white dragon stretched its neck out as far as it would go, snapping valiantly at Saphira's chest. Izayah got the impression that the bigger dragon was laughing.

Eragon smiled a little at Orik. "Saphira wants to know why you haven't fed her—the baby dragon, I mean."

Orik shrugged. "I thought it was more important that you four decide what to do with the girl."

Nasuada stood up. "What we should do, Orik—or rather, what _you_ should do—is take her up to the dragonhold."

Izayah fidgeted. "Umm…may I say something?"

"You just did," Roran remarked dryly.

Arya glared at Roran. Nasuada nodded.

Izayah took a deep breath. "I thought it would be a good idea if my—my dragon—got something to eat first. And also, I would like to have some clothes that'll let me fit in here a little—if you don't mind my asking," she added quickly, blushing.

Nasuada smiled. "Of course I don't mind."

Saphira looked at Eragon, who nodded.

"Saphira says that she can carry me, Izayah, and the little dragon up with Izayah's new clothes. She and I can come back down and find some meat for her dragon while she changes into the new clothes."

Nasuada nodded. "I'll be back in a minute." She stood up and swept out the door.

Izayah looked up at Saphira, who was still looking at her. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the bigger dragon's awareness, like she had with her own dragon.

_**Hello, little Rider.**_

Izayah jumped, startled. She had known Saphira could talk—of course she had—but she'd never expected that voice to be so _powerful._

**_I'm not _nearly_ a Rider yet,_** she replied, tentatively trying her new power of communication.

Nasuada returned at that moment with a bundle of clothes, which she gave to Izayah. "Go now, Eragon—Izayah."

Eragon stood up and strode out the door, Saphira right behind him. Izayah followed, silently looking around. This place matched every description she'd read of Tronjheim—the underground city of the dwarves, and the capital of the Varden.

They went out a pair of doors, and Eragon and Saphira stopped. Wordlessly, Eragon hoisted himself up onto Saphira's back. Izayah faltered, unsure of herself.

Eragon smiled a little, and held out his hand. The white dragon sprang into the air, fluttered her wings, and landed on Saphira's shoulder, allowing Izayah to grab his hand and pull herself up.

"You'd better sit in front of me," he told her. "That way, you won't slide off. It's easy to do that when you're riding bareback on a dragon—even one as careful as Saphira."

With that, Saphira began to flap her wings. Izayah could see the muscles straining—and then they were off.

Izayah had never been afraid of heights, but even she had to cling tightly to one of the spines on Saphira's back. Exhilaration and adrenaline raced through her veins—this was an amazing experience.

The little dragon let out a high keen of excitement, half unfurling her wings, digging her claws into Saphira's shoulder to keep herself from being blown away. She loosened her grip a bit when Saphira snapped at her.

After a minute or two, they reached the dragonhold. Izayah winced when she saw the broken floor—the Isidar Mithrim, as she now remembered, had been shattered by Arya and Saphira.

"Such beauty, and such loss," Eragon murmured.

Saphira alit in one of the caves—and empty one. Eragon helped Izayah down. "You stay here and change—we'll be back soon with meat for your dragon." He smiled a little. "Maybe you can give her a name, while you're at it."

Saphira took off again, and was soon out of sight. With a grin, Izayah began to change into her new clothes—a pale blue dress that looked like Arya's, and black pants to go under it. She couldn't believe it—she'd just ridden a _dragon._

Speaking of dragons…

The little white dragon let out another keening wail, looking expectantly at Izayah. With a smile, Izayah reached out and touched her mind. **_Not now. Soon._**

The little dragon playfully snapped her jaws. Izayah sighed. "What am I going to call you, little dragon?"

The dragon stopped, and looked at her. **_Izayah._**

Izayah burst out laughing. It was so funny that she forgot about being shocked that her dragon had said something to her. "That's _my_ name!"

The little white dragon butted her head against Izayah's leg. **_Izayah!_**

Izayah smiled. "Yes. I'm Izayah. But…what am I going to name _you?_"

The dragon just sat there, looking at her, silver eyes glimmering.

Suddenly, for no reason at all, Izayah thought of one of the TCGs back in her world—YuGiOh. There was a card that was of a dragon made entirely out of diamond. The name of the card was Hyozanryu.

"Would you like that to be your name?" She asked the dragon. "Hyozanryu?"

The little dragon shook her head.

Izayah though for a moment. That had sparked her memory—she was thinking of different ways they said diamond in Japan.

"What about Daiyamondo? Or Kongouseki? Kongou?"

The dragon looked reproachfully at her. She fluttered her wings again—and Izayah caught hundreds of flickers of pure, colored light reflected off her wings.

Izayah smiled softly. "My bright little friend…how about Hikaru?"

The little dragon squealed in delight, and butted her head against Izayah's leg. Izayah's smile widened. "Hikaru it is."

Izayah jumped when she heard a laugh, and whipped around. There stood Eragon, carrying a small wicker basket.

"How did you—"

"Saphira is in one of the other caves. I walked." He looked at Hikaru. "I heard the whole thing. Does Hikaru have any special meaning?"

Izayah grinned. "Yep. The word 'hikaru' means 'to glitter' or 'to shine' Japanese—that's one of the languages they speak where I come from."

Eragon grinned. "It certainly fits. Here's the meat—you have to feed it to her piece by piece."

Izayah smiled at him, taking the basket of meat. "Thanks."

Eragon touched his fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Izayah grinned—it was time to startle the Rider out of his wits. She touched her own fingers to her lips. "Atra du evarínya ono varda."

Eragon started, obviously shocked. He stared at Izayah for a moment.

Izayah beamed. "I said it right, didn't I? I don't know much of the ancient language—but I know that much, at least."

Eragon's face broke out into a grin. "You're a strange girl, Izayah."

Hikaru let out a keen, snapping at the basket.

"I'd better feed her," Izayah said apologetically, "and you probably have other things to do."

Eragon laughed ruefully. "That I do. If you need me, just reach out."

He turned to leave—and looked back over his shoulder. "You look very nice in that dress, you know."

Izayah turned to feeding Hikaru in an effort to hide her blushes. Eragon just laughed.

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**Hikaru: Hee-KAH-roo**

**Review, please! Sugar cookies all around!**


	3. Iet Fricai

**I'm glad you guys like the story so much--I was afraid that it would be a total failure!

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Chapter Three  
Iet Fricai **

Izayah spent the next few days in relative comfort, choosing to remain in the dragonhold with Hikaru. Slowly but surely, she was assimilating herself to the way life in Tronjheim worked. Her main activity was taking care of Hikaru.

In the space of a few days, the dragon had doubled her height and weight. By now, her head reached Izayah's shoulder. She ate a lot, too—Izayah constantly had to call to Eragon to get more. She was always afraid of interrupting him—but strangely, he seemed to enjoy coming up and talking to her.

Hikaru, who was sleeping at the moment, let out a huge yawn.

Izayah smiled. Hikaru was just so _cute_ when she was asleep.

_Cute but dangerous,_ she thought dryly, remembering all the things Saphira could do.

This was still a big point of obstruction for her, the fact that she had met and talked to a fictional character. Common sense said it was impossible—and yet, here she was. Something very freaky was happening to her, and she had no idea what it was.

She was suddenly afraid.

Very afraid.

* * *

_**Do you know what this means, Eragon?**_

Eragon looked at Saphira. **_What _what_ means?_**

_**Hikaru. What color is Hikaru?**_

Eragon thought back to Izayah's dragon. **_White._**

_**Exactly.**_

Eragon stared at her. **_What does that have to do with anything?_**

Saphira rolled her eyes. **_Think about it, you little fool. Why would white be so important?_**

Eragon thought hard for a moment. **_Dragons…they're all colors. Red, blue, gold, black…_**

_**And white.**_

**_There's only ever been one white dragon,_** Eragon replied absently, still trying to remember all the colors of the dragons.

Saphira trumpeted. **_Exactly!_**

Eragon froze, and sent his mind on backtrack. **_There's only ever been one white dragon…and that was the one…_**

**_That Eragon, the first dragon Rider, was chosen by,_** Saphira finished.

**_But _Izayah's_ dragon is white…_**

Eragon's train of thought was cut off as a wave of fear and confusion slammed into him from out of nowhere. It was almost strong enough to physically knock him off his feet.

**_It's Izayah,_** Saphira murmured. **_She's afraid of Alagaësia—and of us.

* * *

_**

_**Izayah!**_

Izayah jumped. **_Wha—?_**

Amusement and chagrin filtered through the link between her and Eragon. **_You're broadcasting your feelings. Saphira and I are on the other side of Tronjheim, and we can pick up your confusion as if you were standing right next to us!_**

Izayah blushed. **_I'm sorry—I'm not trying to._**

**_We know._** She thought she felt him sigh. **_We're going to have to start teaching you how to block your mind. Saphira and I are coming up there—you seriously need some help._**

Izayah blushed harder and looked at the floor as Eragon severed the mind link. Not even a week, and already she'd managed to screw up.

Hikaru opened one of her silvery eyes. **_Izayah need to learn?_**

Izayah smiled at Hikaru. The dragon had already picked up the trick of pulling words out of her head, and was now teaching herself how to speak. Izayah had offered to help, but Hikaru had insisted on learning by herself.

**_Yes, Hikaru. There's a lot I need to learn._**

Hikaru raised her head. **_Me, too. Learn to fly—to fight. Big dragon teach me._**

Izayah laughed a little. **_Who, Saphira? You'd have to ask _really_ nicely._**

At that moment, Saphira swooped in, and Eragon slid off her back. "Come on, Izayah—we need to start. Now." His tone was brusque and businesslike.

Izayah nodded. "Right…I really am sorry about that."

Eragon looked at Saphira for a moment. The bigger dragon nodded, and winked at Hikaru.

Izayah got the sense that her dragon was laughing. **_Saphira teach me to fly, Izayah!_**

Izayah smiled. **_Well, have fun!_**

Saphira took off out of the cave in a whirlwind of blue wings. Hikaru followed, using her own pearly wings to glide to where the bigger dragon waited.

Eragon looked at Izayah. "First thing's first. The best way to figure out how to contain an emotion is to find out why it's there in the first place." He looked keenly at her. "Why do you feel so confused? So frightened?"

Izayah looked at the ground. "I don't really want to talk about it…"

Eragon put his hand on her shoulder. "You have to, Izayah."

That was too much. "I don't _have_ to do anything!" she snapped, turning away. "Just because you're more familiar with this stuff than I am doesn't mean you can just order me around!"

There was complete and utter silence for a minute or two. Izayah stood with her arms crossed, head turned away, eyes closed. She felt Eragon looking at her.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong, Izayah."

At that, Izayah broke down. Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I'm s-sorry, Eragon! I d-didn't mean it! M-My mom—she always wants me t-to be p-perfect—telling me what to d-do all the t-time—"

Eragon awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right, Izayah…"

Izayah just sobbed harder. "I d-don't even know why I'm h-here! I c-can't do anything r-right! I d-don't fit in! I j-just want to go h-home!"

"That's enough, Izayah," Eragon said firmly.

Startled out of her tears, Izayah looked at him. "Hunh?"

Eragon looked gravely at her. "You feel misplaced. I felt the same way. And, like it or not, for better or for worse, neither of us can go home. At least, not yet."

Izayah sniffed. "You're right…I'm just a complete wreck, aren't I?"

Eragon smiled ruefully. "That you are. But now, at least, I know why you've been hiding up here with Hikaru. You don't think you'll fit in."

"No, not really."

"Neither did I. It turns out that I fit in just fine. You'll get a few odd looks and strange sayings cast at you, but you get used to it."

Izayah sighed, and looked down at her palm. The gedwëy ignasia shone like a pale scar.

Eragon sighed. "Being a Rider is a joy—but it's also a burden. People turn to you for help, even if you can't give it. I made a mistake once…a very bad mistake."

"Blessing Elva with the wrong words," Izayah murmured, forgetting herself.

Eragon glanced sharply at her. "How did you know that?"

Izayah froze. "I d-don't know," she stammered. She realized she would have to be more careful with what she said.

Eragon nodded, still scrutinizing her suspiciously. "I said _shield_ instead of _shielded_—I cursed her, not blessed her. That's why you always have to be careful of what you say in the ancient tongue."

Izayah laughed ruefully. "As if _I_ could say more than the elven greeting."

"You're going to have to learn, eventually."

Izayah's face took on a pained expression. "Not yet, please. I'd like to learn how to defend myself _without_ magic that _with._ I…I'll just feel more comfortable knowing that I _could_ do it that way."

Eragon nodded. "Right."

At that moment, Saphira swooped in, closely followed by Hikaru.

**_I can fly real good!_** Hikaru said excitedly to Izayah. **_And I'm learning new words!_**

Izayah nearly laughed out loud at Hikaru's enthusiasm. **_I can see that!_**

Eragon smiled. "Saphira tells me that Hikaru is learning quickly."

Izayah nodded. "Hikaru was just telling me the same thing."

Saphira looked intently at Eragon, who nodded. "I've got to go, for now. Apparently, someone from Du Vrangr Gata—that's the magic-user's cult here, 'The Wandering Path'—needs me for something. And then, maybe, we can start your weapons training."

Izayah nodded. "I can't wait. See you around?"

Eragon nodded, pulling himself up onto Saphira's back. "See you around, iet fricai—my friend."

He took off before Izayah could respond, leaving her staring after him in utter shock, mouth working.

_He actually called me his friend…_

Hikaru nudged Izayah's shoulder with her nose. **_You all right, Izayah?_**

_**Yeah…I suppose…**_

Hikaru nodded, seemingly content with the answer, but Izayah felt the hidden layer of concern.

**_Don't worry, Hikaru—I'm fine._**

And, hopefully, she would continue to be.

* * *

**Izayah and Eragon are real friends, Hikaru is learning how to fly and speak, and Izayah is about to start her weapons training! This'll be great, ne?**

**Review, please! Macadamia nut cookies all around!**


	4. Vinarëal

**Heya, allz! I'm _ba-ack!_ Unfortunately, it won't be for long--but I got back to it! MUAHAHAHAHA!  
Ehehe...I'll just let you read now...**

**

* * *

**

**Vinarëal**

Izayah winced as her eighth arrow flew wide of the target. The jeers of the dwarves around her were breaking her concentration. She had never shot a bow before, and it irked her that all these people were bothering her. And with Eragon off somewhere else, running some sort of errand for Nasuada, they wouldn't leave her alone.

Izayah drew another arrow, and sighted down the bow, as Eragon had showed her.

_Feet shoulder-length apart…bow up to shoulder…draw with your back and upper arms…arrow sighted beneath the eyes…and release!_

Once again, her arrow sailed over the target. Izayah blushed, hiding her face in her hands as the jeers grew even worse.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!" one dwarf shouted. "That's why a woman should _never_ have been chosen as a dragon Rider!"

Another dwarf snorted. "What _woman?_ She's just a _girl!_"

Izayah sank to the ground as the jeers continued. They were right; she _couldn't_ be a Rider. Not because she was too young—Eragon was her age, and had been a Rider for almost a full year—but because she had no idea how to do anything. She couldn't use magic; she couldn't shoot a bow; she couldn't use a sword.

To put it simply, she was utterly useless as a Rider.

_Hikaru should never have chosen me,_ she thought bitterly, tears springing into her eyes. _I can't do anything right._

Suddenly, she heard a double-roar that seemed to shake the whole mountain. Saphira and Hikaru barreled down towards the field like bullets, pulling up just inches off the ground and landing on their feet. Hikaru dashed over and wrapped her wing around Izayah, snarling at the dwarves.

Eragon sprang off Saphira's back and landed on his feet next to Izayah. There was fire in his eyes.

"_SILENCE!_" he thundered, with Hikaru and Saphira roaring again in unison with his voice.

All the dwarves fell silent, shock written across their faces.

"What reason do you have to jeer at her?" Eragon's voice was deadly cool, and if looks could kill, every dwarf surrounding them now would be a fine red mist. "She's no worse than some of you were before you became proficient at the bow. Even _I_ used to miss targets. No one is perfect—not even us Riders. Especially not the new ones."

"But she must have had _some_ prior experience with a bow!" one dwarf protested. "_Our_ children can at least _hit_ the target!" Most of the dwarves nodded in agreement.

Eragon looked at Izayah, who stood up. "Where I come from," she said slowly, "we don't use bows and arrows. We've invented things that are smaller, shoot faster, and are lighter and easier to carry. And they're much more dangerous. I've never needed to learn how to shoot a bow. I know a little bit of swordplay, and that's it."

Eragon nodded, and glared back at the dwarves. "You've done enough. Leave."

Slowly, the dwarves filtered away, grumbling to themselves. They returned to their previous activities in the field.

Izayah stared at Eragon, awe on her face. "E-Eragon…?"

Eragon grinned at her. "Don't worry about them. Few to no dwarves are at peace with the fact that only humans and elves can be Riders." He furrowed his brows. "What you said…is it true? Have you really invented something that is lighter and more deadly than an elven bow and arrows?"

Izayah nodded slowly. "I don't want to talk about it, though."

Eragon nodded. "I understand. Now…let's see what you're doing wrong, shall we?"

Izayah nodded, and took up the stance he had shown her. She drew the bowstring, and sighted down the arrow. Eragon altered her posture a little.

"Now release—"

Izayah let go of the bowstring—and once again, the arrow sailed wide of the target.

Eragon nodded. "I see what you're doing wrong. You're jerking the bow—_after_ you release the arrow. Unless you're really good at shooting, you need to keep the bow still, because too much movement can alter the arrow's path."

Izayah nodded. "Right. I'll remember that." She nocked another arrow, drew, sighted, and—keeping the bow as still as possible—fired.

The arrow flew straight, and hit the bull's-eye dead center.

Eragon applauded. "Great job! You're already almost a professional! Are you _sure_ you've never used a bow?"

"I'm sure," she replied, stunned at her own ability.

Eragon nodded. "Well, I think that's enough archery for today—let's get started on swords."

Izayah glanced nervously at the fighting arena. "I don't have a sword, though…"

Eragon shrugged. "Neither do I." His face darkened for a moment.

_That's right,_ Izayah remembered. _Murtagh took it. That evil, conniving little son of a—_

Eragon tapped her on the shoulder. "Hello? Are you all right? You're zoning out."

Izayah gave her head a little shake. "I'm fine."

Eragon grinned. "Good. We can borrow swords—that's why it's called a training field." He walked off, Izayah following. Over her shoulder, she saw Saphira and Hikaru take flight again.

* * *

_Thwap!_

"Keep your guard up!"

_Thwap!_

"Dodge faster!"

_Thwap!_

"Oh, come on! I'm not going that hard!"

Izayah sank to her knees. The wooden practice swords they were using didn't look like much, but they _hurt—_especially with the amount of force Eragon was swinging his with. She wasn't anywhere near fast enough to block him—she knew she was going to be in pain the next morning.

Eragon leaned on his sword. "Are you all right, Izayah?"

"No," Izayah grumbled, hauling himself to her feet. "I can't keep up with you—we might as well stop now."

Eragon was silent for a moment. Without warning, he whipped his sword towards Izayah's legs.

Without even thinking, Izayah dodged to the side, catching the wooden blade of Eragon's sword on her own. With a peculiar flick of her wrist, his practice sword went flying. Both of them stared at it as it skittered to a stop at the edge of the ring.

"I didn't know you could do that," Eragon said, impressed.

Izayah slowly shook her head. "Neither did I!"

Suddenly, there was a shout from one of the dwarves. "Look! Look! Up above!"

Everyone turned their heads, including Izayah and Eragon. A huge, black, roiling cloud hung over Tronjheim, casting a dark shadow down upon them.

"This isn't right," Eragon murmured. "There aren't any storm clouds underground!" His eyes widened. "Unless—"

Suddenly, the top of the clouds swirled up, and coalesced into the image of a man's neck and head. His skin was pale, and glowed eerily. His hair was ebony black, and so were his eyes—cruel, sharp, and endlessly black.

He bared his teeth, which were pointed. "Rider! I see you!" His voice was deep and raspy, and echoed strangely.

"A Shade," Eragon muttered. He stood taller, and raised his voice. "What do you want of us, Shade?"

The Shade's grin widened. "My name, tiny human, is Vinarëal. But it is not _you_ I come for."

Izayah shuddered as Vinarëal turned his bottomless gaze on her. "I know from where you come, girl."

Izayah gaped at him. "No…"

Vinarëal laughed. "Yes! Rider from another world—it is _you_ I want! And I _will_ have you!" He licked his lips, and laughed manically. "The Kihaku no Honshitsu _will_ be mine—and I will be invincible!"

There was a deafening clap of what sounded like thunder—and Vinarëal was gone.

Eragon turned his astonished gaze to Izayah, who was shivering out of control. "How did he find us? What's he talking about? And…what in the world is a Kihaku no Honshitsu?"

Izayah slowly shook her head. "I…I don't know…"

"And what does he mean, 'Rider from another world?' I thought you were just from another country!"

Izayah gulped. "Er…"

Eragon's eyes narrowed. "That is, unless you've been lying to us this whole time!"

"Hehehe…funny story, that…"

Eragon's eyes narrowed even further. Suddenly, he turned and ran. Saphira swooped down out of nowhere, and without either one stopping or slowing, he vaulted onto her back. In seconds, they were gone.

Izayah heard Hikaru touch down and dart over. **_Izayah! What's wrong?_**

Izayah covered her face with her hands. **_I've been bad, Hikaru. I betrayed Eragon's trust. I didn't tell him I wasn't from this world, and now…well, you saw._**

Hikaru gazed at where Eragon had run, and then looked back at Izayah. There was worry in her silver eyes. **_This isn't going to be good, is it?_**

Izayah nodded, leaning against Hikaru's pearly scales. **_No…it's not._** Tears sprang into her eyes. **_The dwarves were right about me, Hikaru—I don't deserve to be a Rider._**

Hikaru's lips lifted in a silent snarl, even as she wrapped a comforting wing around Izayah's shoulders. **_They're wrong. If they try to take you away, I won't let them._**

The two of them remained there for the longest time, sitting in the middle of the deserted training field, Izayah sobbing into Hikaru's side.

* * *

**Vinarëal**:vin-AR-ey-el  
**Kihaku no Honshitsu:** kee-HA-koo no hon-SHEET-soo

**Uh...I'm not gonna tell you what 'kihaku no honshitsu' means in English, 'cos that's a spoiler!  
Review, please!**


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